


better and better

by Young John Silver (quodpersortem)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6696511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodpersortem/pseuds/Young%20John%20Silver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His fingers are distracting, rubbing over the seam of Flint’s breeches—moving a little higher up after each drink Silver orders. The matron smiles at them, and Silver encourages her to give them just a little more with each pouring of alcohol.</p><p>She doesn’t stand a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	better and better

**Author's Note:**

> For [ellelan](http://ellelan.tumblr.com)'s prompt on Tumblr: _Silver is a horny drunk and Flint needs to not get groped where everyone can see that._.
> 
> Things got a little bit out of hand, as it was only ever meant to be a drabble... But I don't mind think.
> 
> Title is from [this](https://www.leonardcohenfiles.com/better.html) poem by Leonard Cohen.

 

 

Flint knows damn well that Silver is drunk.

It’s obvious in his entire demeanour; he’s loud about not only the taste of their rum but also the looks of the patrons, and with that he appears boisterous towards everyone in the tavern, especially the maidens.

A certain part of it is nothing more than a good feat of acting. Silver’s hand is on Flint’s thigh, hidden from sight under the table as they are bent over a map. Or rather, Flint is whereas Silver does not seem much inclined to busy himself with serious work tonight.

His fingers are distracting, rubbing over the seam of Flint’s breeches—moving a little higher up after each drink Silver orders. The matron smiles at them, and Silver encourages her to give them just a little more with each pouring of alcohol.

She doesn’t stand a chance.

Between banter with the regulars, Silver leans close to Flint. It would appear innocent enough to outsiders, just a captain consulting his quartermaster, but in reality—oh, the things Silver whispers while pressing his body against Flint’s arm are enough to leave Flint with more of a flush than the drink should warrant.

“I want you in bed so badly,” Silver all but moans into Flint’s ear. “If we don’t get back to the room fast, I’m sure I’ll be down on my knees underneath the table, sucking down your cock like I need it to breathe.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Flint hisses as Silver’s fingers tease over the bulge in the front of his breeches.

“I’m sorry, I can’t—I just want you too badly, Flint—just leave the bloody prize be for now and fuck me.”

Silver knows exactly how to push Flint’s buttons too, sparing a moment to gaze deep into his eyes. Flint can feel his own breath hitch—and Silver’s immediate answering smirk does not go unnoticed by him.

“We’re leaving,” he tells Silver.

“We are?” Silver sounds a little too happy, and Flint honestly wish they did not have to do this—but their lodgings are on the other side of Nassau and he genuinely is not sure whether they will make it fully clothed. He’s learnt—not all too long ago—that keeping Silver from his set target longer is only going to put them into greater danger, even if it is about sex. And Silver is right, the prize ship _can_ wait, at least until tomorrow.

“Yes. Keep your hands to yourself.”

Flint pays for both of them, just to speed up their proceedings. Silver does not mind, of course.

The outside air is not much cooler than the atmosphere in the tavern, but it feels fresher somehow—lighter, without the cloying humidity of sweating bodies.

The wind feels pleasant as it twirls under his shirt, strokes his skin—and then Silver’s fingers follow the billowing of the soft fabric, hot against Flint’s back. They have barely made their way away from the entrance of the tavern, and it is not a surprise.

Silver has proven himself to be an exceedingly salacious drunk, especially since he and Flint started fucking.

He does at no point keep his hands to himself, nor does he seem bothered by other peoples’ perception of them. Even now, in the street, Flint finds himself with Silver’s curls sticking to the skin of his own neck, Silver’s lips nipping at the sensitive skin behind his ear.

Flint takes a deep breath and steps away from Silver.

“Oh come on,” Silver darts after him after a moment of shock. “You can’t think that no one would notice, I am sure there are plenty of rumours abound—“

“Rumours, yes,” Flint tells him sternly, mostly to keep his voice steady. “The men don’t need confirmation; they might start to put our ability to make decisions to question.”

“Billy knows,” Silver mentions casually.

It’s enough to make Flint wince and walk ever so slightly faster. Billy was never meant to be privy to their secret, it just so happened that he stumbled upon Flint and Silver on the deck, unforeseen and clearly too unguarded.

“Billy never needed to know,” he grunts in response, ignoring the way Silver’s fingers feel on his shoulder. This time, he is pretending to have a sore leg—and although that may in fact be truth, Flint knows Silver well enough to know he does not need to rely upon anyone to walk. He can handle some pain.

“Billy,” Silver grimaces as he almost miss-steps, tripping over his iron leg before leaning on Flint’s shoulder a little more heavily—genuinely—to steady himself, “did not know what hit him, and neither did you, judging from the look when you came.”

Flint ignores Silver.

“However, that has led me to theorise that you are into voyeurism.” Silver isn’t far off from the truth, but Flint isn’t going to give him that. “Or at least a little bit of danger, anyway.”

It makes Flint’s dick twitch in his breeches again, but he only glares down upon Silver. Silver, who does not realise that this is not a type of mood in which he should be teasing Flint.

“I’ll bet you’d love it if I just kissed you, pushed up against the walls.”

With that, Flint finds his knuckles whitening around Silver’s wrist, dragging him along with him into a narrow and dark alleyway.

With his free forearm pushed against Silver’s throat, bringing his mouth close to Silver’s ear, Flint hisses, “Shut the _fuck_ up, Silver. Follow me and don’t you dare fucking touch me again until we get there.”

He can feel Silver’s breath hitch under his touch; it’s not hard to see, either, that his eyes roll back a little in their sockets, the way his tongue wets his drying lips. Flint has to exert every inch of his wits to keep himself from leaning in for a kiss, their mouths almost touching as Silver shakes again.

“We have private lodgings,” he continues. “You are going to follow me, and you are going to do as I say.”

“Certainly not when we’re alone?” Silver’s voice sounds tight with the pressure on his throat, and Flint huffs.

“Also when we are alone. Are we agreed?”

Silver nods with closed eyes, sagging back against the wall with a dull thud after Flint lets him go.

He seems more subdued after that, still close on Flint’s heels and touching him occasionally but little enough that no one should notice even if it still drives Flint mad with want.

He quickens his pace, aware that Silver has trouble keeping up, although that too helps in getting him to be more quiet and behaving less like a wanton whore in the middle of the street.

Their lodgings are inside a small tavern without a communal room; there are only rooms for overnight stays or, should one wish, a shorter stay without inquiry.

They have a double room towards the back of the building, in the top. The lady who runs the place has no affiliations with the pirates in Nassau; her privacy comes at a slight cost over the other taverns on the island, but they can afford it after their last prize.

She takes a glance at them as they pass her in the small foyer, only just long enough to see that they are her guests indeed.

Their things are already in their room, put there before they headed out. Ordinarily, Flint would simply have gone back to the Walrus and stayed in his cabin overnight, but he knows that that would be too taxing for Silver.

If they also want to do other things, anyway.

“Get undressed,” Flint tells Silver once they are in private. Meanwhile, he takes care to double-bolt the doors and check for any spying holes. He might be giving in to some long-taught paranoia, but Flint would rather be careful and stay trusted by his crew.

By the time he is done, Silver is nude on the bed, slowly stroking his cock as he observes Flint.

Flint can feel his own breath grow heavier immediately, shrugging off his coat as Silver lets out a startled laugh. Flint simply gazes at him as he continues to strip himself of his clothes, until finally he drops his boots to the floor.

Silver is already shivering a little, and Flint can see the tremor that runs through his body when Flint grabs his wrist, pulls his hand away from his cock.

“Keep your hands above your head,” he grunts in Silver’s ear, “and listen to what I say, quartermaster.”

It earns him an uneven gasp in response, but Silver does manage to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m going to touch you,” Flint tells him, “and you’re going to keep quiet for me.” Silver nods. “Whatever I do, unless I give you permission to speak.” He looks up until Silver gives his affirmation again. “And you’re going to keep yourself from coming until I tell you that you can.”

Silver groans this time, his eyes fluttering shut as the muscles in his arms tense briefly. Other than that, he sticks to the rules so Flint decides that he does not need to punish him.

Instead he pushes himself up on all fours, hovering above Silver’s naked body. He isn’t wearing his iron leg anymore, but the stump is skin-coloured and doesn’t look sore today. There’s a light sheen of sweat covering Silver’s skin and his cock is lying hard against his belly amidst the curly black hair, a rosy and flushed pink towards the tip where it’s glistening in the candlelight.

Rather than going right for it, Flint takes a detour.

He starts by trailing his nose along Silver’s beard, pressing a light kiss to Silver’s mouth—but pulling away right when Silver’s tongue wets his lips.

Silver keens, and Flint shakes his head.

Instead he moves down, pressing his teeth dangerously against the throbbing artery of Silver’s neck and then sucking a mark into the skin. He can feel Silver’s cock twitch against his belly, some liquid spilling out and sticking to his skin.

Lower again, Flint takes some more time to focus on Silver’s nipples. He’s thought about asking Silver to get them adorned with jewellery—but this way, he can work the dusty buds with his teeth and tongue alternatively, until they’re puffy and sensitive enough to entice tremors in Silver’s hips from blowing cool air on them.

“Flint—“ Silver puffs above his head, his voice more strained than ever. He has his knuckles fisted into the pillow under his head, his legs open wide so he can thrust up against Flint’s body. His cock is already sticky with how badly he wants Flint, the coarse hair matted to his body.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks Silver, hovering his mouth over Silver’s cock, not-quite touching it. Silver whinges again, so Flint repeats himself. “Give me an answer. Do you want me to fuck you?”

“ _Please_ ,” Silver finally utters, his hips pushing up on their own accord as he spreads his thighs further apart to accommodate for Flint.

The vial of olive oil is nearby and Flint takes it, smiling at the memory of the stock on board of the Spanish war ship. It is one of the few possessions he took after handing over the ship to Vane.

He belatedly notices that Silver is looking at him with a curious look on his face, and Flint shrugs. “The Spanish galleon,” he says, “I have to say, I’m glad this was among their shipment.” Call it hope or call it caution—but by the time the fire between them had been properly kindled, Flint had spent some time pouring oil into small vials he could carry on his person at all time.

Now he slicks his hand with the liquid, carefully positioning his hand between Silver’s legs. Silver’s chest heaves in time with his breaths as Flint rubs a finger against Silver’s hole. He can hear the hitches coming from Silver’s mouth as he starts to press in, revelling in the tight and velvety feeling around his fingers.

Silver squeezes around him before angling his hips down, trying to get more of Flint—faster, and still without speaking.

Flint still takes it easy. He has a wooden phallus in his bag, too, and had for several moments entertained the thought to use it on Silver tonight. Maybe he still will, but it has to be later; for now, he too is too far gone to even draw out the preparation _too_ long.

When he gives Silver a second finger, Silver groans and pushes his hand over his mouth to keep more moans from tumbling out.

With the third finger, he tells Silver, “Suck on your fingers, if you must use your hand to stay quiet.”

He stretches Silver easily like that, spreading his digits as far as he can while he watches Silver bite down on his own fingers to stay quiet.

When Flint deems Silver ready—and Silver seems to agree, a desperate look in his eyes—he slicks his own erection and lines up his body with Silver’s.

He slowly, slowly pushes in, listening to the quiet sounds Silver makes around his own fingers; gasps and bitten-back moans that tell him exactly how much he is enjoying this, how much he has needed it.

Flint himself groans unashamedly when he is fully sheathed, pushing himself into a better position for thrusting and grabbing Silver’s left thigh for more leverage. He keeps his other hand on the mattress, fingers digging into the cloth and the cotton underneath and it doesn’t take very long before Silver’s free hand comes down to cover Flint’s.

They lock eyes again, Silver’s pupils blown wide as he stares at him. Flint thrusts in hard and fast to see the changes on his face—the way Silver’s jaw goes slack, the way his eyes flutter closed for a moment before he looks back at Flint again.

“Touch yourself,” Flint tells Silver, and he does—his spit-slick fingers finding his cock, brushing against Flint’s lower belly as he starts to fuck Silver in earnest.

The bedframe creaks under their weight but neither of them are particularly concerned with that. Sweat prickles at the back of Flint’s neck as he leans in over Silver, kisses him with tongue this time—revelling in the way Silver sighs into his mouth, the way he moves into Flint’s touches and moves.

The way his knuckles stutter against his belly when Flint bites down on Silver’s bottom lip, how he moans and gasps as Flint fucks him harder.

He can see Silver is close, his hand stilling and squeezing down around the base of his cock. He seems to want to say something—beg for Flint, perhaps, but he doesn’t have to. He’s been good, tonight.

“Come.”

The splatter of Silver’s come is immediate and hot between their bodies. He squeezes tight around Flint’s cock, moaning and bucking his hips up in time with the pulsing of his dick. After, he takes a deep breath before relaxing back into the mattress.

Silver smiles and by all means seems satisfied with the way Flint continues to fuck him.

Flint has to give up kissing Silver after just a minute or so, his own climax building quick. Silver seems to realise too, his hands finding Flint’s face, pulling him down and nipping at his jaw. It’s gentle, all the rush gone from him, but it’s enough to leave Flint shuddering as he also comes.

Silver keeps him close after, his leg wrapped around the back of Flint’s, refusing to let him pull out. Instead they kiss languidly once Flint has caught his breath, still close together in a way that Flint hasn’t felt in too long. Something he thought he’d never find again.

He doesn’t say the words. He doesn’t even _think_ them, but he feels that this is what it is.

Silver falls asleep mid-kiss, mumbling a little bit before he stops reciprocating, leaving Flint to clean them both up. He doesn’t mind.

After, James rinses his mouth with water to get rid of the foul taste of stale rum before the night, and he climbs into the bed, settling down cradling John against his chest.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> _I want to get_   
>  _to know you_   
>  _better and better_


End file.
